Today felt like a reset.
I woke up already knowing what the day would look like—my husband working all day, me holding down the fort with the babies. And for the first time in a while, I didn’t want to just get through it. I wanted to show up differently.
During my pregnancy, I was so sick. Most days, all I could do was lie there and wait for time to pass.
Flashback to one of my rougher days of first trimester nausea
So this morning, I made a quiet decision: I want more than that version of myself now. I want to live my days again.
So I got up at 6 a.m. and went for a brisk walk. Just a 5K—but it took me 50 minutes. At my peak, I would’ve done that in 26. That reality hit me a bit, I won’t lie. But at the same time, it felt… good. Music in my ears, fresh morning air, and a slower pace that let me actually notice things.
I smiled and greeted everyone I passed—even the construction workers. I’m usually running, head down, focused on speed. Today was different. Today was about being present.When I got home, I still felt like I had a solid workout in. That mattered.
Getting dressed was a whole other story. None of my regular pants fit yet, so I reached for maternity jeans. Not exactly a confidence boost—but also, not permanent. Just a season. A short one, I hope. I’m learning to meet myself where I am instead of fighting it.
The rest of the day was full-on mom life. Potty training, cleaning, little hands constantly reaching for me. And honestly? I loved it. You can feel how much they just want to be close, and there’s something really grounding about that. We baked banana bread, took a nap together, and just moved through the day at our own pace.
My babies baking banana bread
I even got them a pull wagon so we can start going on walks after school—but of course, it didn’t fit in my car. So that’s tomorrow’s mission.
By the time my husband got home, he was exhausted. We got the babies to bed, and I finished submitting an assignment for school. And then came the moment I was dreading all day…The gym.
It was 11:15 p.m. I was tired. I didn’t want to go. Everything in me was saying, “Just skip it.”
But I also know myself. There’s no better time right now. During the day, I’d run into people I know, and I’m not ready for that. And honestly? I have a small window before summer hits, and I want to feel good in my clothes again. Not perfect—just better. Stronger. More like myself.
So I went.
The gym was almost empty—just one other guy there. I don’t know what he’s going through, but there was something oddly comforting about not being the only one pushing through at that hour.
I got on the stair master… and wow. I could barely do 3 minutes. That was humbling. My body feels weak right now, and I’m dealing with low blood pressure, so I’m trying to give myself some grace. Still, it’s hard not to notice the difference.I kept it simple—arms, and some gentle inner core work to start rebuilding. Everything felt hard. I’m honestly a little scared of injuring myself, so I’m trying to take it slow and be intentional.
Broooo. I’m usually 110……😭
But here’s the thing: even though it felt small, it wasn’t.
I’ve shown up three times already.
And even if there’s nothing “visible” yet, something is shifting.
This is also making me realize something important—if I do get pregnant again, I don’t want to fall into complete stillness. I want to keep moving, even if it’s just a little. Because right now, I feel sluggish. Weak. And I know part of that comes from the last few months of survival mode—Uber Eats, the couch, just getting by.
But I’m not there anymore.
I’m rebuilding.
Slowly. Imperfectly. Tired… but determined.
And one day, I know I’m going to look back at this time and feel proud. Not because it was perfect, but because I didn’t stay stuck.
I started.
And this time, I’m not stopping.
Reclaiming MomBod 